Alternate Inheritance
by Raven of Alaska
Summary: Alternative version of Eldest and my version of Empire. Alternate adventures in Eragon will be mentioned.
1. Chapter 1

Disclamer: I don't own Eragon, Eldest, or the Inhertiance Trilogy. I do, however, own Raziel.

Prologue

"Ready to leave?" Brom asked, while strapping his sword to his belt. Ajihad was dead, but they still lived, and the Varden had been saved, for now.

Murtagh looked at him. "Did the dragon really pick me?" Ever since the second dragon egg had been retrieved, his world had been turned upside-down.

_-Flashback-_

"_He's the son of Morzan. He needs to be imprisoned." Ajihad said. Fury was in every inch of his face. "He'll be just like his dad. You remember how terrible he was, Morzan, the first and last of the Foresworn."_

"_He saved Eragon's life, as well as mine. We wouldn't be here if not for him." Brom said defensively. "Do not judge him by his father. His destiny is his own, not his father's." _

"_Can I have your word that he won't betray us?" Ajihad asked. "I can't trust him until I have your word. Else I'll have to lock him up." _

_Hrothgar sighed. "Ajihad, listen to Brom. Murtagh won't become his father. It is unlikely."_

_Everyone stared at Brom, waiting for his response. They were sure that he wouldn't give his word. After all, hadn't it been Morzan who killed his dragon. Surely he could see that Murtagh was destined to follow in the footsteps of his father. What happened next surprised everyone a bit_

"_Vel einradhin iet ai Shurt'tugal." Upon my word as a Rider. Everyone gasped. He had sworn in the ancient language. The Varden waited for their leader's response. Tension filled the air._

"_Then, I, Ajihad, welcome you, Murtagh, son of Morzan, to the Varden." Cheers went up all around. Suddenly, a cry went up._

"_We've got an egg! A dragon egg!" Ajihad, Brom, Hrothgar, Murtagh, and everyone else stared at the new arrivals. Or arrival, as it was._

"_Raziel," cried Brom, "you're alive!" _

"_Yeah. Here boy, take this, will ya?" and he gave the egg to Murtagh. It was blood red, and then something happened. Pain surged through Murtagh's right hand, and he let out a cry._

"_What's wrong? Murtagh!" Eragon cried. Then a thought hit him. "Wait, let me see your hand." He grabbed his right hand. Everyone gasped. There, on his palm, was the gedwey ignasia._

_-End Flashback-_

Brom sighed. "A dragon will wait forever for its Rider, if it has to." He could see the despair in Murtagh's eyes. "Don't worry, you'll make an excellent Rider. Now, let's join Eragon, Orik, Raziel, and Arya. They've been waiting for us so we can leave for Ellesmera."

Murtagh grinned. "Let's go!" They set off on to join the others, and, together, left for Ellesmera.

Hope you enjoyed it. Well, I'll update as soon as I can. Which will probably be in a few days, since I'm busy with school. Later!


	2. The Long and Winding Road

The long and winding road

"Stupid urgals," Orik growled. Dried blood stained his sleeves, and a mark ran down the lower half of his left arm. How could they be ambushed? Nonetheless, they killed all the urgals, including the eight kull as well. Outnumbered, he doubted that they could've survived if not for the two Riders and their dragons, who were now searching the road ahead for any stray urgals or any other dangers.

Brom walked up to Arya. She had a deep wound on her leg. "Here," he said, "let me heal it for you. Waise heill." Then he walked up to Orik and did the same.

"Thanks, Brom," Orik said, "I needed that." Brom just nodded and then he returned back to the tree he had been sitting under, and started to pack his things.

_It's safe, Brom. Tell Arya and Orik we will surge on ahead and meet you at Nadindel._

_Will do, Eragon_ was Brom's reply.

Nightfall was upon them when they rejoined Eragon and Murtagh at Nadindel.

An elf greeted them as they neared the city. She was six feet tall, and had dark brown hair that ran down to her knees. She stared at Arya, the cried, "Princess, you are alive!"

_She's a princess!_ Orik thought. Hrothgar should know about this as soon as possible.

They exchanged the traditional greeting, and then headed to the room that had been prepared for them. Eragon and Murtagh, they were informed, were already there, as they had arrived much earlier.

Room of a thousand gems

"If we keep going at this rate," Eragon said, "we should be in Ellsmera first thing at sundown tomorrow." Murtagh only nodded. Ever since the urgal ambush, he had been very quiet. Well, quieter than usual. But that was Murtagh. "What of your family, Murtagh. I know quite a lot about your father, but barely anything about your mother. What was she like?"

Murtagh grimaced. His family was a touchy subject, but he felt he could confide in Eragon more than he could Orik, Arya, or even Brom, who he praised for killing his horrible father, Morzan. "Well, my mother was very nice. She had light blonde hair, and dark, brown eyes. After my mother came back from wherever she went, she'd always be at my side, and tell me stories of what it was like outside Uru'baen. Her name was…"

"Eragon," Arya exclaimed "we finally caught up with you." He didn't look happy to see them, however. Maybe it's just my imagination. Murtagh glanced at Eragon.

_We'll continue this later, okay? _

_Sure, Murtagh. How about when everybody else is sleeping?_

_Fine by me, my friend._

Then he got up and left, leaving Eragon pondering what _his_ mother had been like.

_That's why he seems displeased by our arrival_ thought Brom.

_We should spy on Murtagh and Eragon tonight _replied Arya.

_Nay_, said Orik, _let them be alone._

_But it could be a trap!_ Arya cried defensively.

_All right, you win_, Orik muttered. But I only do this to protect Eragon, understand?

_Brom?_ She asked, _are you with us?_

_Definitely_, he replied, _though I side with Orik on this_.

After everyone had fallen asleep, Eragon and Murtagh went to the Mithnikel tree. Sine they didn't want to wake anyone up, they tiptoed quietly across the room. Once out in the open, Eragon and Murtagh ran to the tree. Even running, it took them 15 minutes to reach it. Little did they know, however, that they were being followed.

"Where were we, anyways?" Murtagh asked.

"You talked about how she looked," replied Eragon, "and were about to tell me her name."

"My mother's name was Selena." He looked at Eragon, who's face had turned into one of shock. "What's wrong, Rider?" Murtagh questioned, with a look of surprise.

"Do you mean Selena, the sister of Garrow?" Now it was Murtagh's turn to be shocked.

"How," he demanded, "Do you know that name?"

"Garrow raised me. He was my uncle. Selena was my mother." Eragon said calmly.

Then shock hit both of them, as they became aware of what this meant.

"So that's why mother left. To protect you from father! Eragon, we're brothers!"

"Murtagh," Eragon said, "we should tell the other at the crack of dawn. Then again," he said, cutting down a few branches, "we may not need to."

That's when Murtagh noticed it. Three people had been listening to their conversation. "Arya, Brom, Orik," he sighed, "You can come out now."

Three astonished figures came out of the bushes, looking from Eragon to Murtagh and back again.

"You're brothers!" Arya and Orik cried in unison. Brom just looked at them.

"So," Brom said calmly, "the truth is out."

Everyone looked at him.

"You knew," yelled Eragon, "and you didn't tell us!" He felt betrayed, and was about to storm off when Brom grabbed his shoulder. "Let go!"

"Eragon," he said, tears swelling up in his ancient eyes, "please let me explain." To Eragon, it sounded like he was pleading. So he turned and faced Brom directly, feeling anger for the old man fill him. "Eragon," he explained, "when your mother came to Carvahall to give birth to you, she made me swear not to mention your father or your brother to you. She didn't tell your uncle Garrow because she knew he'd tell. I gave her my word as a Rider, in the ancient language. Please forgive me. I should have realized that it was inevitable that you would eventually learn the truth. But I made a promise to your mother, and kept it, despite all you had been through."

Eragon felt pity for him. "I am sorry, Brom. There is nothing to forgive. Will you accept my apology for being angry at you?" 

"Of course. Now, let's get some rest," the old storyteller replied, "we have a lot of traveling to do tomorrow."


	3. Ellesmera

Ellesmera and Preparation for the Agaeti Blodhren

Four months later….

Murtagh and his dragon, Thorn, were resting in their rooms. The days of training had been non-stop since they arrived in Ellesmera. Today's training had been hard. Oromis had been teaching him advanced magic skills, and he was succeeding in everything, but Eragon was learning faster. His younger brother was learning faster than him. As for his skills with a blade, he and Eragon were equal. The elves would come to watch, sometimes for hours, as Eragon and Murtagh dueled in the grassy fields. Thorn and Sahpira had been training with Glaedr, learning attack patterns, evades, maneuvering in the dark, tactics to use against another dragon and his Rider, tricks to use against the Ra'zac and their steeds, and, of course, the history of their proud race, from the beginning to the Fall, bits and pieces here and there. But soon, they'd rest. The Agaeti Blodhren, or, blood-oath celebration was near. It happened only once every century. _What to give the elves? _Ah, I shall do a poem about my struggle. So, taking out a feather and inkbottle, began to scribble in the ancient language.

_In a city of darkness, was born a lad, innocent and joyous,_

_Sired by a monster, loved by his mother, he knew only darkness._

_The monster Morzan, and the loving wife, Selena._

There he stopped for a moment. Only a few in Du Weldenvarden, much less Ellesmera, knew who his father or mother was. Outside a few high ranking officials, including Queen Islanzadi, knew of his true heritage, or the fact he and Eragon were brothers. He simply shrugged and went along. After a while, he came to one of the most hurtful moments of his life.

_One night, whilst he was three, the lad's father got drunk, and, in rage,_

_Threw his mighty sword, Zar'roc, at the child, who was not killed,_

_But wounded, giving the boy a scar that would hurt forevermore._

He then went on to tell how his mother had gone away, and, during that time, his father was killed by the great Rider, Brom, who took Zar'roc and pierced Morzan through the heart, killing off the first and last of the Foresworn. How Galbatorix fumed at this loss, yet how sympathetic he was towards Selena until she died of disease while on business. The anger Galbatorix had when he heard of her death. The sympathy he showed Murtagh for a while, and then went back to his usual fits of madness.

So far, he had about 6 pages. Then he took a break, pausing for a short period of time, catching some breath. He was about to start again when…

"Hey, Murtagh!" came an excited cry. Eragon's face was beaming with delight.

"What happened, did Arya kiss you" he asked, half joking. He knew how much Eragon liked her.

"No," Eragon replied, his face turning red with embarrassment, "I've decided what to do for the Blood-Oath Celebration." _This should be interesting_, thought Murtagh. "I'm going to do a poem about my life." Murtagh looked in shock. "What!" Eragon asked, dumbfounded.

"Eragon," he said, "that's what I'm doing, too!" Eragon started laughing, until he saw that Murtagh was serious. "Guess we think alike, eh?"

"We do, Murtagh," Eragon said, with a bit of amusement in his voice. "By the way, Queen Islanzadi is wondering what we are doing for the Celebration. Should we tell her?"

Murtagh remained quite for a minute, as if he were in thought. When he replied, his voice was quiet, as if someone was watching them. "Sure, let's go right now."

Islanzadi was more than happy to hear they were giving poems. "We can add these works to the great library in Tialdari Hall after you're done. The stories of your experiences before and after receiving a dragon egg will be worthy of some of our greatest authors and poets."

"Thank you," they replied. Such praise from the queen of the elves was and extraordinary honor, even for a Rider. As they left, they could hear Queen Islanzadi say, "I guess it's true, then. Brothers do think alike."

After splitting ways, Murtagh went back to his room, and began to tell of his escape from the clutches of King Galbatorix, how he hunted the Ra'zac and their steeds, the Lethrblaka, eventually ending up in Gil'ead, meeting up with Eragon and Brom, their flight to the Varden, the great battle under Farthen Dur, the death of Ajihad, Nasuada's coronation, and, last of all, their trip to Ellesmera, including the revelation in Nadindel, in which he found a long lost brother who he did not know exist. Only such things did he leave out as Eragon's crush on Arya, and his own crush on Nasuada.

When he was done, he had 14 pages, all in great detail, all in the ancient language. Finally, he decided to sleep. Tomorrow, after all, the Agaeti Blodhren would begin.


	4. The Agaeti Blodhren

The Agaeti Blodhren and Carvahall

I don't own Eragon or the Teen Titans. I do, however, own Raziel, who will appear in other stories. (Including Teen Titans)

The day had come! The first day of the Agaeti Blodhren had finally come at last! Partying for three days straight! No studies, no training, just fun! _We're the first Riders to see this in a century,_ thought Murtagh. The shock had hit him like a bolt of lightning from the sky. "Hey, Eragon," he called out, once his brother had been located.

"Hey, Murtagh," was his reply, "this is going well, isn't it?" He was smiling, and it looked to Murtagh that he was drunk. "Beautiful lights, beautiful songs, beautiful forest." He went away humming a song he had learned about an elf maid who fell in love with a man, obviously thinking about Arya.

At one point he couldn't remember what he had been doing. He remembered singing with the elves, dancing with a beautiful elf maiden, the sounds of birds singing in the trees, the chorus of elves singing different melodies, the wonderful, colorful, and joyous flashes of lights. That night, the stars shone brightly in the sky, though he could not see them.

Brom was laughing. This was the most fun he had had in over a century. Dazzling display of lights, the beautiful sounds of the elves singing, the birds chirping in the trees, everything in Ellesmera seemed to be going great. For that night, and the next two days and nights, it would seem that there was nothing to worry about. Of course, after this, they would start to have to worry about Galbatorix again. But he didn't think about it. Not here, not now. Once he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Eragon and Arya dancing. Has he finally told her how he feels? Brom wondered. Then again, did she accept his feelings for her, and admit her feelings for him, despite their age difference? He could only guess. He spotted Murtagh dancing with Aleena, and elf maiden born about the same time as Murtagh, if he remembered correctly. Then, he decided to join in the festivities. He sung, danced, and told riddles. For hours he exchanged riddles with Orik, before he finally bested the dwarf. While dancing, he noticed Raziel was leaning up against a tree, eyes closed as if he was in deep thought. He slowly approached Raz, as he would when approaching a dangerous foe. Cautiously he asked, "Hey, you okay?"

"Just thinking about my family. I've been gone for almost six months. Raven's due in a few days. I'm just worried about her and the kids." Sadness filled his eyes. This is the longest I've ever been away from my family. "After the Agaeti Blodhren, I'm leaving strait for Carvahall." For a moment, he could've sworn he'd seen Brom smile.

"Don't worry, you'll see them soon enough. Time will fly by before you know it." Brom replied.

Reassurance from Brom was all that he needed. The rest of the night, he was partying, dancing, telling riddles, and singing songs, all while watching the brilliant displays of light and sound coming from the base of the Menoa Tree. For the rest of the night, he had fun.

The second day was better than the first. More spectacular works of light and sound that could be seen and heard for miles around. It was on this day that Raziel would deliver his gift. He had sung a fairth, depicting the city of Carvahall, his home for many years since the Fall. The whole of Carvahall was standing in the picture, in the middle of it, stood his wife, Raven, their fifteen-year-old daughter Lena, and their four-year-old daughter, Rachel. It was a big fairth, so it could be seen by everyone who was amongst the crowd.

"It's beautiful," Islanzadi said, with astonishment in her voice. "If you don't mind, I'd like to hang it above the gates of Tialdari Hall, so that all who visit can see."

"Of course, Queen Islanzadi, you may hang my fairth wherever you wish," he replied, bowing gracefully, then stepping off the stage in front of the Menoa Tree. Many of the elves congratulated him, Brom told him he had done a great job, Eragon told him how much it reminded him of home, and that he had done a nice job depicting Garrow, and Murtagh said that he should make fairths and sell them throughout the Empire. It was then that Islanzadi approached him.

"Raz," she said, with a smile on her face, "could you go to Tialdari Hall?"

"Of course, I shall escort the fairth to your halls, my queen."

As he approached the Hall, the doors opened, and an elf stepped out. "Ah, Raziel the Great, you come at last." He looked at the fairth. "You may put your fairth down near the gate." Raz put the fairth down, and turned to leave. "Ah, Raziel, could you follow me, please?" The only response was a simple nod, and they were off. "In this room, my friend."

Wonder what's in here? Suddenly, a voice cried out…

"Daddy!" Rachel cried, nearly flying out of the bed she was in. "You're here, daddy! I've missed you!" Tears of joy ran down her face as she embraced him in the biggest hug she could give.

"I've missed you too, Rachel, my daughter. Anyone observing this scene would say that this is the happiest that Raz had been since entering Du Weldenvarden. Then again, this was the happiest he'd been since he left Carvahall. "Where's mommy," he asked, smiling. Rachel pointed to the bed.

"There, daddy," she said, "come on." Rachel had started tugging at him to follow. She got back into bed. "Come and rest, daddy!"

"Okay, I could use the sleep," he replied wearily.

The Third Day

For how long he slept, he did not know. But when he awoke, he felt a hand on his cheek. Looking over, he saw the smiling face of his wife, Raven.

"Morning, sweetie. How you doing?" She could see he was happy.

"Yeah, I feel better just seeing you. How are you doing?" Raven looked at him, smiling. He could see that she was blushing.

"I'm still pregnant, if that's what you mean," she joked. "The baby should be along any day now. By the way, in case you're wondering where Lena is, she's been looking for you ever since we got here. I haven't seen her in, oh, since before you arrived."

"Dad! You're back! I've been looking for you," Lena exclaimed, happiness in her eyes. "Elves, dad, I can't believe I've seen elves. Why didn't you tell us about the elves?"

"There's a lot I need to tell you. Come over here and sit down first, okay?"

"Honey, I thought we agreed not to say anything," Raven said, staring at him.

"It can't be helped, Raven." Lena sat down on the bed. Just then, Rachel woke up.

"Morning daddy, morning mommy," she said excitedly.

"Daddy's going to tell a story. So you have to be real quiet, okay?" Raven said to their little girl. They all knew she liked to talk during stories. She just nodded.

"This story is true. It is about my life before I met your mother and we settled down in Carvahall." Lena and Rachel looked at him with eager eyes. "You see, it starts during the time of the Riders…"

So he told the story of how he and Brom had been Dragon Riders, of the Great Battle above the skies of Alagaesia, in which Galbatorix and the Foresworn killed all but a few of the Riders. He went into great detail about that battle and many other skirmishes the remaining Riders had with the Foresworn. Nothing was left out, and at times, Lena and Rachel would be scared out of the wits, ready to cry, only to have their mother comfort them. Brom's battle with Morzan, his own battle with Frelon, the only elf that was corrupted by Galbatorix, everything that had happened during the Fall was revealed, although they knew a lot of it, from what Brom had told them.

"So, after I killed Frelon, I fled to the town of Terim, where I met your mother. Though Frelon was dead, I still felt the loss of my dragon, though his killer was dead. About a week after we met, I asked your mother out. That was the beginning of our relationship." Raven smiled as he told of their first dance, how her parents had disapproved of him until they learned that he was one of the Survivors. Finally, he told of their first kiss.

"Aww," the kids said. Raz and Raven nearly laughed.

"That is where the story ends." He could see disappointment in their eyes. "Come on, it's the last day of the celebration," lets go and watch. Their faces turned from disappointment into happiness in the blink of an eye.

Eragon was just getting in front of the Meona Tree when they got there. He gave his poem, which, being great, he recited again. Then all were silent. Brom got on stage, and presented them with a poem about the days before the Fall. After that, Murtagh went up. All eyes trained upon him.

Murtagh recited the poem about his life. There was shock when he revealed who his father was, sympathy for when he was struck in the back by his drunken father's sword and at the death of his mother, and, again, shock when they learned about his connection to Eragon.

At the end of his poem, there was nothing but silence for a few minutes. Then the crowd erupted into cheer, almost as loud as when Eragon had gone up. Islanzadi asked him to recite it again. He did, and there was another cheer from the crowd.

Then the elf smith, Rhunon, stood up in front of the Meona Tree. "Long have I forged blades for Riders. To Eragon and Murtagh, these blades I do present." One was a sword whose blade was colored blue, and had an amethyst gem set on it. The blade was bright red, with a twilight blue gem set on it. Eragon and Murtagh thanked the smith, and took their blades. The crowed cheered at this sight. "Long live the Riders," a few cried out.

Then two elves stepped out. Musicians started drumming and harpists plucked their strings. The elves, Iduna and Neya began dancing, and started singing. Soon, Glaedr, Saphira, and Thorn started humming along. After a minute, the dragon from their tattoo burst off, and floated in midair. The dragon looked at both Eragon and Murtagh, then, in order, touched the hearts of their gedwey ignasia's.

_Our gift so you may do as you must,_ they heard a fiery voice say. Pain shot through them both, their visions flashed red and black, and the last thing they heard before fainting, the fiery voice said, _Our gift to you._


	5. Returning home

**Sorry for the long wait. Here's the next chapter.**

Rain splashed his face. Wind howled in his ears. The Spine Mountains passed silently underneath him. Time passed slowly. Finally, the storm stopped. Eragon could see Thorn beginning his descent, and realized that Saphira, too, had begun to descend. _We're nearing the Falls, Eragon_. Too caught up in his worries about Carvahall, he had barely noticed how far they'd come. It seemed only yesterday that, in a vision, he'd seen Carvahall burn, its citizens slaughtered mercilessly, the King's men and Ra'zac razing his hometown to the ground. Brom's voice brought him back to reality.

"We landed. You alright," he asked, not wanting to invade Eragon's mind.

"Roran…if he's hurt…" he murmured, anger in his voice. Roran was, beside Murtagh, the only family Eragon had left. As if he knew what Eragon was thinking, he put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Don't worry, our cousin is probably fine. We'll rest for an hour, then be on our way." In an hour, the sun would be setting, perfect time sneak into Carvahall, and find this Horst his brother had spoken of. Turning back to offer words of encouragement, Murtagh discovered Eragon already fast asleep, with Brom and Orik following suit. "I'll stand watch," he said quietly. Somewhere in the forest, a bird cawed.

Carvahall

Roran was tired. He and Horst had just finished planning how to best strike the King's men in the morning, as well as getting Sloan to cooperate with moving through the Spine. Opening the door to his room, he could see Katrina was already asleep. The last thought he had before joining his fiancée was, _I'm getting married._

A scream woke him up. The Ra'zac were in his room, and had Katrina! Like lightning he was out of the bed, punching the nearest Ra'zac, sending it reeling backwards. The other one fled through the open door, with Roran in hot pursuit. Out in the street, the Ra'zac, with a scared to death Katrina, was about to turn a corner when he heard it. The scream Roran let out as the second Ra'zac bit him was loud music to his ears. By this time, the whole town had turned out, surrounding the village center, murmuring with shock and anger.

Pain surged through his right shoulder. He knew he was about to be killed. The Ra'zac would surely kill him, and get away with Katrina. Someone in the crowd yelled "brisingr" and the Ra'zac disappeared in a blinding flash of blue light.

Eragon stood, bow raised, with Murtagh, Brom and Orik, who stood with bow, sword, and axe ready. There were gasps of shock at seeing Eragon, whom many believed to be dead, though they never said so in public. "Let her go," Eragon growled, advancing little by little, until finally he stood protectively over his cousin. The Ra'zac screeched, the howl ripping at Eragon's eardrums, but he stood his ground. Carvahall was in danger. He would not let Garrow's fate be Carvahall's. Seeing Eragon seemingly unaffected by his screech, the Ra'zac gently laid Katrina down, and then fled. Bow lowered, Eragon knelt by his cousin, muttering many of the healing spells he'd learned at Ellesmera.

Katrina watched, stunned by two facts. One, the Ra'zac had put her down, and two, Eragon was kneeling over a body… "Roran!" she cried, trying to get to her feet.

"Easy there," a gentle voice said, "you've had a rough night."

She knew that voice. "Brom?" she asked, amazed that another person had seemingly returned from the dead. With Brom's help, she went over to be with Roran, in case he… well, she wouldn't let herself think any different.

Ra'zac camp

Sloan stared in fear. The Ra'zac, angry at the loss of his brother, was about to have a big meal. Sloan's pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears. As death closed in, Sloan's last thoughts were of his daughter. _O Katrina, what will become of you after I __die?_Only then did he realize; his jealousy and fear of losing his daughter had got the better of him.

Carvahall

The return of Eragon and Brom to Carvahall sparked a feeling of hope in the people. Not only had he returned, but Eragon was a Rider. So was Murtagh, whom shocked them all by revealing that he and Eragon were brothers. Add the fact that Brom had once been a member of the Old Order of the Dragon Riders, and the people felt they were safe from anything. When the King's men attacked, Orik, leading a group of men consisting of Horst, Eathbert, Tyrec, Sokure, James, Jayson, Joshia, Aaron, and Michael, the soldier who deserted after being told to massacre a group of harmless children by the Ra'zac, fended them off long enough for Eragon and Murtagh to lead the other warriors of Carvahall around the enemy's flank, thereby cutting off their retreat and leading them to a slaughter. None of the King's men survived, for they refused to surrender, and fought valiantly to the last. After the battle, everyone packed and, within a week, left Carvahall behind.

2 Months Later

"Milady, Lord Shadeslayer is here, with the whole of Carvahall!"

Nasuada stared, half shocked and half amused. "All of Carvahall, you say" she questioned. She had no doubt that Eragon would return, but with all of Carvahall. "Surely he has a story behind this. Go inform King Orrin…"

"He is already meeting with the King, milady."

"Tell them I shall join momentarily." The messenger bowed and left. So, here on the Burning Plains, the Varden shall live or die.

**Until the next chapter. Se onr sverda sitja hvass!**


	6. Here, the Varden shall live or die

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle. Part of this chapter is going to focus on an OC of mine, Michael. He will become more important as the story develops. BTW, Brisingr is an amazing book! Thanks to Tidustide, Starfighter364, and Churchill Vampiress for reviewing. **

Children played, parents watching with amusement. Lovers held hands, kissing. Michael watched, observed, and sighed. It had been twelve, long, brutal years ago that he had left the service of Galbatorix, never to see his wife or kids again. He was furious when he got the orders.

-Flashback-

_Lieutenant, _

_A group of orphans have been killing our patrols. We suspect they are in league with the Varden, and are helping with plans to attack our fortress at Glardthon. They must be killed before this plan is put into action. By order of King Galbatorix, these children are to be executed mercilessly. They hide in the abandoned brewery. _

_Signed,_

_The Raz'ac _

Gathering up a few of the best soldiers under his command, Michael stormed the brewery, expecting a gathering of traitorous teenagers. Instead, there were little kids, none older than eight. Doubt entered his mind. His troops stepped forward, bows at the ready. "No!" Michael yelled, taking his blade and cutting down two of the soldiers before the others could react. Dodging arrows, he impaled sergeant Hithwins as he was drawing his blade. By this time, the fourth soldier had drawn his sword, and lunged at Michael, who parried and delivered an overhead chop. The young private blocked, countering with a strike to the left, which faintly cut Michael's arm. Dropping the blade, completely by accident, Michael backed up. Grinning, the private strode forward, blade dipped as if ready to plunge into Michael's chest. Sidestepping the stroke which would have taken his life, Michael swerved around his opponent, drew his knife, and buried it into his opponent's neck. He then proceeded to get the children out, unnoticed.

After discarding his uniform, knowing that he'd be executed for treason, Michael luckily stumbled upon recruiting members of the Varden, who promised to see the children to safety. "Join us in our fight against the Empire. We could use more soldiers." After explaining that he had to go after his family, he promised to join. "Very well. Inqxiell, Voridmr, and Lothrimare, accompany Michael and see to it that he and his family safely reach Farthen Dur."

After nearly three weeks of long, tiresome riding, they reached Jastol, at the northern shore of Lake Leona. All they found was smoldering ruins. The Empire had slaughtered the town in retaliation of Michael's desertion. Extreme, but nothing too extreme for the Empire. Tears swelled up in Michael's eyes as he realized that his wife and children are dead. Forever, he would be haunted by the knowledge that he failed to protect them, the blame that was rightfully his.

-End Flashback-

"I said, are you okay?" Eragon asked, placing a hand on Michael's left shoulder. "I can see you're troubled."

"Just thinking, Shadeslayer."

"What about?"

"The family I lost." He refused to say any more about the subject. As much as he trusted the new Dragon Rider, he didn't feel like giving him his whole life story. "So, any news on the Empire's troop movements?"

Eragon just stared at him. _Eragon!_, Saphira scolded, _you shouldn't be reading his mind without his permission! Don't you trust him?_

_He used to be a soldier for Galbatorix, Saphira! A truly loyal one, at that. I don't trust him fully. Besides, he's been a little off lately._

When Saphira didn't respond, Eragon decided it would be best to answer Michael's previous question. "Well, the Empire's troops have reached the Burning Plains and set up camp. We attack tomorrow at the break of dawn. It's going to be a" but whatever Eragon had to say was interrupted by an inhumane shriek. Drawing swords, Eragon and Michael ran towards the defenses facing the Burning Plains and saw a very grumpy Orik. "What happened?" Eragon inquired.

"Angela," Orik stated, "poisoned some of the Empire's troops! No glory at all, I tell you! A coward's way of fighting!"

"I can assure you, dwarf, that there are many troops I was unable to poison. By the end of tomorrow, you shall have your fill of glory!" Angela spat, then left. More shrieks filled the air, until it seemed that the only sound one could hear was the horrible shrieking of the dying troops. Eragon and Michael stared, towards the west, towards the setting sun, towards the Empire's camp, where men lay dying of poison.

After a dreadful night filled with horrible shrieks, the army of Varden warriors, which included King Orrin's troops, marched out to meet the Empire. The sun rose to a battle that had just begun. The armies clashed, the sound of steel against steel, the twang of bows as they loosed their arrows, the flapping of dragon's wings as Thorn sped over the battlefield, filled the air. In the middle of this, men fought for their families, for their friends, for the freedom of Alagaesia. Some fought because of their unfailing loyalty and devotion to the Empire, however tyrannical it is.

As the day wore on, neither side seemed to gain the upper hand. The only good thing for the Varden was that they had the Dragon Riders on their side, and most of the Empire's magicians were dead. On the other hand, imperial reinforcements arrived a little after three in the afternoon. Fresh troops coming from the sea. Morale dropped, and Michael fought on.

"Michael," a voice growled. "Well, little brother, how's your exile, how's your wife, your kids?"

Michael replied by charging at his older brother. Anger swelled up in him, "dead, you bastard!" he said, swinging at Daigen with all his strength. "The Empire slaughtered them, how do you think my exile is going!"

"Such a pity, dear brother, that you must die. Well, you'll be with your wife and kids soon enough. Lichrisrate!" Pain exploded thorough Michael's chest. "Icvorium encanmatus!" Michael felt as if he were on fire.

Daigen grinned sadistically. "You are weak, Michael. Weak and useless. I'd be doing the Varden a favor by killing you. Khatmir." Michael screamed in agony, then became a crumpled up on the ground. Suddenly, a second entity entered Daigen's mind. _Who are you?_ Daigen asked, trying to break the sorcerer's concentration. Before Daigen died, he heard the sorcerer's reply.

_I am Eragon Shadeslayer. _

"Waise heill!" Murtagh said. The healing spell did its work, and before Michael could thank him, Murtagh was off, colliding with imperial troops.

Murtagh swung, taking the head of an imperial trooper. A second trooper attacked, and Murtagh gave him a quick death. Arrows whizzed past him, impaling imperials and Varden alike. "Retreat!" Murtagh heard somebody say, and the remaining Varden forces began retreating across the Burning Plains, the Empire hot on their heels. All seemed lost. The troops were being slaughtered, fresh reinforcements had just arrived by boat for the Empire, and most the Varden remnants were wounded.

Galbatorix won, his forces crushing the Varden completely. The dragons were butchered, and their Riders tortured to death. The kingdom of Surta was brought under control of the Empire, and Galbatorix, glorius is he, continued to reign in peace. Wherever bards go, they sing the tale of the death of Eragon at the hands of Galbatorix, the truth hidden in secrecy. Songs glorify the end of the war, the destruction of the Varden, and of the ever lasting peace that followed.

At least, that is what should have happened, given the current situation. There was one thing, however, that nobody counted on. That was fate, for at the moment when all seemed lost, that Galbatorix would win the war, salvation came for the weary Varden. Hrothgar, king of the dwarves, came commanding a huge army that, excuse the pun, dwarfed both the Varden and Empire's forces combined. The tide had turned, and despair gripped the heart of the Empire's troops.

The Varden and Hrothgar's forces swept over the Empire's troops like a wave over sand. The accounts of what happened next are unclear, but this much is certain. Both Eragon and Murtagh, riding their dragons, took to the sky and pummeled the enemy with magic from above. Hrothgar slew many of the imperial elites, going into a frenzy. Arya and Michael, teamed side by side, left a bloodied path of corpses and limbs. Roran killed the Twins. Of Raziel, it is known he brought down a battery of catapults single handedly, then proceeded to join Brom in boarding the ships in order to keep the enemy from escaping. When the battle ended, the sun was beginning to set, and the sky was painted a dark orange and red. None of the Empire's troops remained.

Michael headed back into the Varden encampment, his sword stained with blood. His brother's death weighed heavy in his mind. He was about to head to his tent when a voice behind him cried, "Michael!"


End file.
